


Three Is Better

by syrenhug



Category: Bleach
Genre: Ableist Language, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, he's actually biromantic asexual but let's not get into that, like later on, nnoitra uses the b slur..., turns out ichigo is a sub?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Is Better

**Author's Note:**

> [sips coffee even though I hate coffee] when will I write part two?

He wakes up shivering.

 _Don't look over_ , something inside whispers. But pain has always attracted him more then pleasure. So he does. Toshiro and Ishida are wrapped around each other. Arms hugging, feet intertwined. A work of art with their contrasting hair and pale skin against the white sheets. It's more then definite that they're not cold.

Sometimes he seeks it out. Stretches his hand out while asleep and is greeted with a palm giving his own a message. But every time he does it he feels like he's giving something away, asking for something that's not his to take.

Toshiro hums into his pillow; low and whiny, and Ishida replies with a grumble. He can't help but smile.

"Wake up. It's-" He glances over at the clock. "Eleven."

"No." Toshiro huffs, turning his head. Ishida's eyes are wide and soft without his glasses.

"What's the rule?"

"Which one? There are a lot. Toshiro lives here."

A displeased click. "Don't get smart."

"So you want Kurosaki to stay dumb?"

Ichigo snaps his fingers. He is _not_ going to laugh. "Watch it, man."

"Could you two shut up?"

They go silent. He starts to count, crouching in the middle of their now separated forms. One, two, three, four-

Toshiro groans. The ends of his lips are turned down, his forehead twitching. Nothing new. They've seen it all before. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine?" He repeats again, just to hear Ishida laugh.

Pale green eyes narrow. "But I want pancakes. And eggs."

"Sure, would you like a glass of milk with that?"

"Actually," Toshiro smirks and he starts crawling his way out of the bed. But a slim hand grabs his ankles and he's under the covers with two people pressing him close. Kissing him back into bed.

They don't leave the room for awhile.

* * *

Their world is not his. He's the kid shaking the snow globe, watching the flakes fall. Not a part. Not separate. Just there. Enjoying the moment.

Toshiro and Ishida are the same whole piece of a puzzle. They have no need for anything else to make them work. They're perfect.

Before, when he didn't understand his own wants and needs and how they couldn't be shoved on other people, he would've complained. But he's nineteen and he's lucky. Really lucky that he's found two people that didn't mind him being around. Sharing their bed. Splaying in the middle of their love.

It hurts and it's not fair, but it's just how it is.

* * *

His whole family died when he was seven and sometimes he wishes he could remember what it's like. To depend on someone. To trust them not to hurt you. He can't, though. Remember.

He tells him that maybe they shouldn't see each other anymore. Ishida stays silent and Toshiro seems angry, but he watches their faces and he knows. It was never meant to be anything else but what it was.

* * *

Months later, he hears they're engaged. They don't invite him, but they let him know in person that the experience they had together helped them realize that how much they loved each other.

He spends his time in bed with goose bumps.

* * *

Renji has a grin that devours and Byakuya smells of earl grey tea and oil.

It doesn't take long for him to realize why they want him. They're awkward. Maybe it's because they're so different. Renji likes to joke around and play video games. He's mature, but he enjoys playing at being a child. Byakuya reads poetry on Wednesdays and speaks four languages. There's something about him that is almost untouchably refined.

Ichigo doesn't have to worry about how he's going to fit in with them when they hardly know how to fit in with themselves. He's guiltily grateful for their dysfunction.

* * *

"What kind of music do you like?" He asks them.

"Classical."

"Rock."

Ichigo hides his smirk in his coffee. They both look horrified. Of course, Byakuya's version of horrified is a thinly raised eyebrow.

"Classical? You talking about that moody piano shi-?"

A look.

"-Stuff?"

"I don't know why you believe your entitled to undermining my preferences when you listen to screaming. I'm surprised you still have hearing in both ears. "

"First off, fuck you."

He can't help it. He laughs. Two heads turn to him, surprised. They are so- unfamiliar. All banter with Toshiro and Ishida had been playful irritation. He doesn't think that they had a differing opinion about anything. But these two-

They don't seem to have anything in common. So he reaches over the table and takes their hands. "Have you guys ever tried to go dancing?"

* * *

The truth is, he sees it before they do.

People gravitate to likeness. Similarities instead of differences. But opposites attract. And maybe the one thing they are alike in is their feelings for each other.

Byakuya is fluid. It's as if his body is his soul and he doesn't need to even try to guide it. Renji is light, pouring easiness on anyone who happens to be around him. He watches them move, bodies in no way touching, but eyes locked. The music purrs in their ear, in the air, and both their hips are digging into his.

He dances.

* * *

Ichigo spends six months with them.

He gets them to be comfortable, secure. Learn that it's okay to disagree as long as they figure out it doesn't matter in the end. And they let him have his space. He appreciates that. He _loves_ them for it.

So when he decides to leave he doesn't say goodbye. But he kisses them both with a soft _see you_ and doesn't look back at the bodies stretched on complete different sides of the bed.

* * *

Deciding to become a doctor is gradual. It isn't what he'd always wanted to do, but it made sense. He wants to help people. Make a difference.

It's going to be a long road, sure. But he thinks about all the people he can talk to and impact and heal and he doesn't think it's really that bad at all.

* * *

A girl named Rukia invites him to hang out with her crowd and he says yes.

Everyone is cool. They take one look at his hair and make jokes, but none of it is cruel. Though, admittedly, he does bristle a little when someone calls him Orange. Fuckers.

Shinji- who's leg never stops bouncing under the table- wiggles his eyebrows at him suggestively. "So which way do ya swing?"

"Shinji." Rukia blushes, shooting him an apologetic look. All of the guys are wearing wide grins. Except one with eyes almost as green and breathtaking as Toshiro's. He keeps avoiding the gaze of the man beside him. Blue hair and all.

Ichigo clears his throat. Ducks his head. He's never felt the need to discuss his orientation before. It doesn't really matter to him either way. "I like men."

Half of the table groans. Shinji's smile threatens to split his face.

"Pay up, motherfuckers."

"Did you-" He turns to the one with long, pink hair who gave him a pat on the arm when he first arrived. "Did you guys bet on my orientation?"

"I'd hardly call it a bet. Shinji swindled us." Nnoitra says, exasperated. But he lingers on the man's name with fondness. Ichigo knows they're hooking up.

"Well, I'm polyamorous too, so."

Someone laughs; low and triumphant. The blond groans.

"You just had ta add that, didn't cha?"

Nnoitra sticks out his tongue, flicking Shinji on the forehead. "Now who has ta pay up, bitch?"

"Don't say that word. It's disgusting." Rukia is amused, though. It is pretty funny. Even if they are centering him as their entertainment.

"I knew it," It's the one with blue hair. He's surprised by the look he's getting. Dark and speculating. But then the man flicks blue eyes to the side smoothly and-

Oh. Oh. _Oh._

Fuck.


End file.
